


Like My Mirror Years Ago

by magicnico



Series: The Beauty and Brutality of Scars [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, I have no idea what else to put, Introspection, Kinda, Not Beta Read, Pre-Canon, Scars, The Dursleys Suck, Written for a Class, actually more like it's described but whatever, mentions of abuse, quarantine fanfiction, trigger warning: mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicnico/pseuds/magicnico
Summary: Harry didn't like looking at himself. Which is why he's doing exactly that in the shower of the Dursley's.
Series: The Beauty and Brutality of Scars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731790
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Like My Mirror Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I had to write this for my writing class, so what you are seeing is what my teacher is going to be reading. Trigger warning for blood, but I didn't know if I should tag this as graphic depictions of violence or not?? Please tell me in the comments what I should tag, thank you!

Staring at his body, Harry doesn’t quite believe how he’d amassed this many scars. The water continuously hits his back and the back of his neck, and Harry thinks that maybe he shouldn’t be this surprised, when looking at all the adventures he, Ron, and Hermione went on. But not all the scars littering his body are a product of some magical quest he and his friends had to go on, in fact, most of them were made outside of the magical community completely. So, yes, maybe Harry is a bit silly in forgetting just how much he was injured, but it’s not just the superficial scars that trip him up. Usually it’s the scars that hide under the skin, just waiting for a moment of peace to remind Harry of their existence.

Whenever Harry thinks of scars his mind automatically shifts his attention to the lightning bolt stretching across his forehead. All of the scars Harry has managed to collect bring forth bad memories, but this one has got to be the most intense one, in terms of what kind of memories it drugs up. He can still hear the phantom screams of his mother and the fear in his father's voice, the slimy sound of Voldemort’s is particularly shiver-inducing, especially after fourth year. But the thing that sticks out the most to Harry is the overwhelming green that takes over his vision right before he wakes up in a cold sweat, panting as though he had just run a mile even though he hadn’t left his bed for hours.

Harry breaks out of his reverie just long enough to shut off the slowly cooling water, thinking that if he’s in it for the long haul then there’s no need to waste water when he’s not even going to acknowledge it. He slips down into a sitting position, propped up against the cool, wet wall. He looks at his legs and notices how short they look compared to Ron’s lanky form. He yet again curses his Aunt and Uncle. Due to them throwing him in the smallest possible place he could fit, his growing was significantly stunted. This may not be a noticeably visible “scar” but it’s definitely the first damaging thing his family had done to him. 

His gaze then catches on the ring of holes on his calf while looking at his short legs, looking like a bite mark you’d get from a dog. Like most on this list, this scar does not bring forth good memories. It brings up memories of bitterness and spite, of wanting to succeed and live just to shove it in his relatives faces. This was where the beginnings of a deep, dark hate began, hanging from a tree until past midnight, wishing and waiting for the day his extended family got what was coming to them. Of course, this never came to be and Harry learned to let go of most of the hate that was festering in his heart, but oh how much he had wanted them to suffer back then. 

The tale started with Harry unintentionally doing something wrong in the eyes of his relatives and them deciding he needed a strict punishment to set him straight, as usual. It was only a year before Harry was to begin schooling at Hogwarts, though he didn’t know at the time. “Boy! Get out here and clean this mess!” Harry sighs. It was one of those weekends- Aunt Marge is visiting. Although, Harry shouldn’t even be calling her aunt as they aren’t even related, and thank god for that, Harry thinks bitterly as he trudges his way to the backyard. The Dursley family is seated around a small table, somehow able to fit every family member, eating lunch. There is a tipped over glass with a small puddle of water coming from it. “Are you deaf? I said to hurry up and clean this mess! Go on!” Vernon urges Harry to get going while the rest of the family continue to talk, occasionally sending looks Harry’s way as if he’s a bit of gum underneath their shoe. 

Harry hurries to do as he said, already hungry from not eating much the other day, hoping that if he cooperates extra well today he’ll get to have a bit more food than usual(It doesn’t work. It never works). In his haste to clean the spill, he trips over Aunt Marge’s new puppy, Ripper. Before he could get in anything edgewise, Ripper leaps up and bites Harry’s ankle like one of his chew toys. The scream that erupts from Harry is perhaps the loudest noise he has ever made since he was a baby. He reflexively rips his leg away from the sharp toothed monster, leaving an even worse wound, with the teeth having been dragged across his ankle.

The one good thing about Harry Hunting is that it granted him amazing speed, which he is infinitely grateful for as he starts running away from the beast, barely registering his Aunt and Uncle’s screeches and shouts to get back and clean the mess, and Aunt Marge and Dudley’s uproarious laughter.  _ Great, just what I need, I’m probably not going to be getting any meals any time soon.  _ Harry looks down at his newly injured ankle and he half-limps-half-runs.  _ Well, at least Ripper got a nice meal out of it. _ Harry has a sudden urge to laugh. He thinks that he might be losing too much blood. 

Finally Harry spots The one lone tree in the backyard, planted there a few years back for Dudley’s summer project for school(He was supposed to plant and water the tree while making constant updates of the tree's progress. Harry ended up doing both jobs for him). He starts climbing, the blood dribbling down to his foot, likely staining the one pair of good socks he owns. He continues climbing the tree, not stopping until he’s high enough that the dog won’t be able to jump to catch him. His arms shake with the effort he took to climb the tree, not used to using his arm muscles. He pants and looks back to where the Dursleys used to be eating, They’re all gone now. They must’ve left while Harry was using up all his energy to climb a tree. He looks back down at the dog. Ripper sits back on his hunches, still growling. Looks like it’s going to be a long day. 

By, what Harry guesses is, the third hour the blood has clotted and dried up. The Dursleys stay locked up in the house. Probably enjoying some desert and watching television. Maybe they are eating up that ice cream Harry had seen in the freezer. His stomach rumbles.  _ Someday,  _ Harry thinks harshly,  _ someday they’ll all be grovelling at my feet, begging for just a little bit of money while I sit atop my throne made of money.  _ But Harry wouldn't even look at them. He’d ignore them like they try to ignore his existence now.  _ They'd teach them.  _ Harry thinks with a bitter smile. He entertains this idea for a while, after the sun has set and lights in houses go off. He thinks of it even as Ripper is finally called off, sometime around midnight. And he continues to daydream about it as he’s thrown back into his cupboard.  _ Someday.  _

A banging interrupts Harry's thoughts, accompanied by a shrill voice demanding him to get out of the bath because it’s intruding on Dudley’s time. He sighs, once again, and proceeds to get out of the shower.  _ Yeah. Maybe someday, but that day is not today. _

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, the ending is kinda weak, sorry. Hope I brightened your dreary quarantine day a lil bit though! If you want me to expand on this by writing about more of his scars please comment and kudos!


End file.
